


Know You're Enough

by lil_missb



Series: You're Enough [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Post-Episode: s03e24 The Divine Move, Smut, Stydia Week, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_missb/pseuds/lil_missb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up after The Divine Move. The Nogitsune was a game changer, and now Stiles and Lydia have to deal with the aftermath of death and possession, changing pack dynamics, new (old) enemies, and their changing feelings for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Stydia Week 2014 on Tumblr. Written in the style of NaNoWriMo, so basically very little editing, so all mistakes are mine. I also haven't written creatively in years and I am still new to this fandom, so I apologize for any OOCness.

Chapter 1: Cover Me Up

Lydia has never been to a wake before. Even with all the death in Beacon Hills she hasn't ever been to one.  When her great-grandmother died she was so little she fell asleep at the church and her parents went right home. She understands the idea behind a wake, of not wanting to be alone after putting someone in the ground. However, in practice it turns out to be awkward and even more painful than being alone.

She sits in the living room of the McCall house with a plate of some kind of salad in her hands. She hasn't touched it. Who can eat at a time like this?

It’s very quiet. 

Most of Allison’s family are dead besides the few distant relatives currently making small talk with Chris Argent. Some people from school have shown up. Danny is sitting beside her, making the occasional comment and picking at his plate disinterestedly. Most of the McCall pack is spread about the house. Derek and Isaac are sticking close together, spreading their time between Scott and Chris, while avoiding the obvious hunters in the Argent family. Ethan is noticeably absent, at least to Lydia, either because he wasn't invited or chose not to come. It’s no secret that he and Aiden never felt like a part of Scott’s pack. 

Scott and Stiles are together, have been since the night they defeated the Nogitsune. Lydia hasn't really talked to either of them since they drove her home that night. In fact, the most she has spoken to them in the 3 days since is when she got the details of Allison’s funeral. They are currently sitting at the dining room table, heads bowed in conference. Lydia doesn't know what they are talking about but occasionally one will nod their head in agreement of what the other said.

Stiles looks much better than the last time she saw him. He was always pale but the greenish-gray pallor has gone to be replaced with his normal porcelain flush. The bags under his eyes are a little smaller but it still doesn't look like he has been sleeping. She had looked over several times today to see him wringing his hands and stretching his fingers out, almost like someone counting them would. It’s a troubling gesture to Lydia and she doesn't know why.

“Are you going to eat that?”

Lydia is startled out of her thoughts by Danny, gesturing at the untouched plate in her hand.

“No.” She replies, “I’m really not hungry.” She hasn't been hungry in days, but she’s not going to mention that part. In fact she’s probably lost five pounds. Grief makes a good diet. _Glad some good could come from my death._

Lydia closes her eyes against the sudden rush behind them, at the grief hearing that voice in her head brings her and the shame that she ever thought anything like that. As if there is anything good about Allison not being here. Needing air, she gets up and walks outside to the back porch.

Hearing Allison’s voice in her head has become a re-occurrence since she died, and with all the supernatural that has become a part of her life, Lydia wishes she could make herself believe it was actually Allison saying these things and not some subconscious monologue in her head made to sound like Allison.

Her phone chirps and as she unlocks the screen she sees a message from Ethan telling her to meet him in the woods at dusk if she wants to say goodbye to Aiden.  She has some time yet before dusk and contemplates just going home. After all, her black heels and modest skirt won’t be good for a trip into the woods and she could use some time to herself between wakes.

 

* * *

 

Dusk comes quickly, and sporting a much more trail conscious ensemble, Lydia pulls into the parking area in front of the Beacon Hill Preserve and gets out of the car. As she is texting Ethan as to where exactly she is supposed to meet him, Scott pulls up beside her on his bike. He doesn't seem as surprised to see her as she is to see him.

“Hey.” He says, removing his helmet and hanging it on the handle bars.

“Hi. I didn't know you were going to be here.”

Scott leans against the hood of her car next to her, hands in his jacket pockets. “Just because I never called them Pack doesn't mean I don’t appreciate what they did to help us.”

“He would have been glad to know that.” She says and gives him a slight smile, just an upwards curve of one side of her mouth really.

Derek joins them soon and together Scott leads them by smell to a clearing far off the path. Aiden’s body rests on a raised dais of branches, wrapped up in a sheet. Ethan waits for them off to the side, leaning against his motorcycle.

He greets Scott and Derek, thanking them for coming. Lydia approaches the dais and looks upon Aiden’s uncovered face.

Lydia looks up at Ethan as he approaches. “He died a good guy, didn’t he?”

Ethan smiles down at her and gives a curious shake of his head. “What?” She asks.

“It’s just, he wanted me to tell you that he did. I should have known that you would figure it out.” She smiles and leans over to kiss Aiden on the forehead.

Ethan takes her place as she steps back, and just before his lips meet his brother’s forehead, she hears him say “I told you she’d believe me.”

The four of them stay in the clearing until nothing remains but ashes.

* * *

 

Scott and Lydia say an awkward goodbye at her car, with Scott saying “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before driving off. It’s an unwelcome reminder that life hasn’t stopped since Allison died. She still has to go to school, do her homework, and fill out college applications. All of it seems so daunting and unappealing without Allison to share it with.

She drives home with a knot in her stomach, desperate to not go home and be in the room she created so many memories of Allison. She makes a right when she should have made a left and finds herself pulling into Stiles’ driveway.

He answers the door still wearing the clothes he wore to the funeral, though his blue button down has been untucked, the top button undone and sleeves rolled up. His tie is also absent. Something slots into place when she sees him and the knot eases.

He doesn’t say anything as he ushers her in and leads her to the kitchen.

Lydia has only been to his house a handful of times and most of those times she just went straight up to his room. This is the first time she has been in the kitchen and seen more than just a passing glance as she goes upstairs. The kitchen is clean but not as orderly and put together as her own. It’s decorated in a way that may have been trendy a decade ago but clearly hasn’t been updated. Of course it wouldn’t have been. Mrs. Stilinski probably decorated and laid out this very kitchen while she was still alive and Stiles and his dad wouldn’t have either the heart or inclination to change it.

Stiles pulls out two glass tumblers and she notices a decanter of scotch on the kitchen island.

“You came just in time.” Stiles says. “I’d rather not toast to Allison on my own.”

“Stiles, where is your Dad?”

“He had to go to work. They’re short on help at the moment, so…” Stiles trails off, and looks down, fingers drumming on the counter top at the reminder of the chaos the Oni and Nogitsune caused. He clears his throat, “He’ll be back in the morning, so it’s just me right now.”

His desperation to not be alone hangs in the air like a cloud and Lydia is struck by the urge to go to him and wrap her arms around him. It would be easy. They fit together well.  She remembers. However, he’s no longer dying and she hasn’t had anyone else die on her in the past couple of hours so it doesn’t seem as natural or as easy. Before she could just brush it off as a way for two people to hold each other’s pieces together when they were falling apart.

“No its not. I’m here now.” She says grabbing the decanter and heading into the living room. A beat later she hears Stiles behind her, glasses in hand.

* * *

 

It’s good scotch. Stiles tells her that his Dad got it when he was elected Sherriff and only breaks it out for special occasions. They don’t talk much at first but after a couple swallows Stiles gets her to talk about Allison. She talks about the silly, girly things they did when the supernatural wasn’t taking over their lives. She talks about helping Allison train and how Lydia always had to wrap her fingers when she was training to use her ring daggers. (Allison just couldn’t do it neat enough.) She talks a little about Aiden and how she regrets not telling him she thought he was turning into a good guy.  She notices that Stiles resolutely doesn’t talk about the Nogitsune or being possessed, but lets it slide.

She is a little drunk when she realizes that they are sitting close enough to have every inch of their sides touching. All night she resisted the pull to touch him and have him hold her and the comfort she knew it could bring. At some point she must have unconsciously given in. Stiles even has his arm wrapped around her, her head resting on his shoulder.

She looks up at him and meets his eyes, the first time in a long while since she had just been leaning on him and talking.

“I’m glad that you’re all right, Stiles. I don’t think I could have handled losing you too.” She’s surprised at the revelation. She also damns the alcohol for making her blurt it out like that before she could have time to analyze it. She remembers when Stiles said something similar to her at the end of the last school year. Something about losing her and devastation, and she understands now in a way she didn’t then.

“Lydia…” Stiles starts, but she has no interest in whatever he wants to say. A beast-like urge claws at her stomach and she feels lightheaded. His lips draw her attention and before she knows it she is kissing him.

It is not their first kiss. However there is no panic attack to stop and Stiles wastes no time in kissing her back. He kisses her like a man of regrets. As if he thought the first time was going to be the last time and has regretted not pouring all he is into it.

Her hands rest on his face and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to shift her body until she is half on his lap, hands trailing back to run through his hair and grip the back of his head. His hands are wrapped around her waist, fingers gripping her tightly.

She runs her tongue along his bottom lip and he lets her in eagerly, pulling her in closer and tangling a hand in her long hair. He pulls again and she is fully in his lap now, fisting his t-shirt.

When she pulls away, they are both panting, faces flush. Lydia doesn’t feel remotely drunk anymore. She in fact feels quite clear-headed. She just kissed Stiles. On the night of her best friend and exes’ funeral.

“I’m…I…gotta go.”

Unprepared to deal with it all, she climbs off Stiles lap and walks out the front door. If Stiles says anything to try to stop her, she doesn’t hear him over the sound of the blood rushing though her head.

 


	2. A Heart on the Run

Chapter 2: A Heart on the Run

 

The next morning Stiles wakes up to Scott’s ringtone. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, just tossing and turning in bed, but the sun is out and last he remembers it was night. At least he hopes he fell asleep and didn’t lose time another way. The two were surprisingly similar.

He reluctantly sits up and answers his phone.

_“Dude, are you coming to school today?”_

Stiles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Nah, man, I really don’t feel up for it.”

_“No sleep again last night?”_

The day before Allison’s funeral, Scott had made him institute an honesty only policy, stating that they couldn’t get through everything that had happened if he had to worry that Stiles wasn’t telling him how he was really doing. That meant no more lying about being in pain or saying that he was fine if he wasn’t. It was such a habit for Stiles but he reluctantly agreed so long as Scott did the same. Knowing it would be hard for Stiles to outright admit if he was having a hard time, Scott said that he would be happy so long as Stiles tried, but he had to answer honestly if Scott asked him a direct question about how he was doing or what was wrong.

“Yeah, I had a lot on my mind.”

“ _Was it…Void? Allison.”_

“Yeah. Both. And…Lydia.”

_“Lydia? What happened with Lydia?”_ A couple weeks ago Scott wouldn’t have been surprised that thoughts of Lydia had kept him up all night. Lately though, Stiles’ nights were occupied with darker terrors than Lydia never knowing he even existed.  

“She came over here last night.” Stiles paused as his thumb traced one of the little blue fish on his pajama pants, “We had a couple drinks, talked about Allison, you know. Then she, uh, kissed me.”

_“Wha? Really?! But that’s good right?”_

“I don’t _know_.” He huffed, falling back into bed. “We got a little heavy and then she, just, ran off. And I can’t figure her out. I mean, we’ve kissed twice this year but both were in extreme situations. And I don’t know if she likes me or if I’m just convenient, like she would have kissed anyone last night.  But then I think that maybe _I_ took advantage of _her_ being all emotional and vulnerable. And then I got all this guilt because Allison’s dead because I let a dark spirit of chaos and destruction take control and, and, _taint_ me. So many people are dead because of that. I shouldn’t be feeling anything good right now, and Scott! Lydia _defiantly_ feels good!”

Sometime during his rant he’d gotten out of bed and begun pacing the room, one hand holding his cell to his ear and the other gesturing wildly as thought Scott was right next to him to see it.  He’d been trying to sort out how he felt all night. Leave it to Scott to bring it all out.

_“Whoa, Dude. First of all, if there is anyone in the world who deserves some good right now, it’s you. None of this was you fault. NONE OF IT! You were put in an impossible situation and I don’t think that anyone could have come out of it any differently. And you’re not tainted. You may be hurt and tired and stressed about it, but Void didn’t take anything from you that I don’t think you can’t get back in time. As for the rest of it, I really don’t think you have it in you to take advantage of anyone, especially Lydia. Who I think defiantly cares about you. I don’t know why she ran off last night, but we may just have to ask her. Which we should do when we see her at school today.”_

Stiles let out a frustrated sigh, leave it to him to have such a good guy for a best friend. “All right, fine.”

_“Cool.  Come pick me up? We can ride together.”_

 

* * *

 

Scott is waiting on the curb in front of his house, backpack slung over one shoulder, when Stiles pulls up.

“Isn’t Isaac coming today?”  Stiles asks once Scott climbs in the Jeep.

“No. He won’t be coming to school for a while. Argent said he had some business to take care of outside the country and Isaac decided to go with him.”

“Oh.” Stiles wasn’t ever close to Isaac, but he had accepted that he was a part of Scott’s pack. He briefly feels the plucking threads of anxiety run though him. Nothing major, but Isaac’s absence is a chilling reminder of how many people won’t be meeting them at school today. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“I don’t know.” Scott stares out the window at the scenery passing by. Stiles knows that Isaac leaving is probably worse for the alpha than it is for Stiles. “I think it’ll be good for him though. After Allison, I think he just needed to get away.”

“And what about you? Do you need to get away too?” Stiles has to ask. He knows that Isaac and Allison were close and maybe had a thing, but whatever it was couldn’t have compared to what Scott and Allison had. Stiles would understand if Scott needed to leave, but he hoped he wouldn’t.

“Nah. No.” Scott looks him in the eye, as if he knows what Stiles is thinking and wants to reassure him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

* * *

 

Walking into the school is surreal. The last time he walked these halls he was being pursued by the nogitsune. He hasn’t really been back to attend classes since he went missing the first time and was diagnosed with dementia. He can feel eyes on him and hear the whispers, though he can’t discern if they’re talking about him being missing or Allison, his friend and Scott’s ex, being killed. He really hopes that no one asks him about either one.

Scott walks with him to his locker and Stiles has to stop and think about which class he has first. “So what do we tell people about me?”

“What do you mean?” Scott replies.

“I mean, I haven’t been to school in weeks. The Sherriff’s department had an APB out for me ‘cause I was missing. People may ask when they see me walking around campus again.”

“I don’t know. How about we say you had a head injury and were confused?”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his best friend. Scott looks sheepish and says, “Ok. So our cover story needs work. Let’s think about it some more and for now if anyone asks we’ll just tell them to mind their own business.”

“Ok, sure. Whatever. But speaking of cover stories, what do you think is going on with that one?” Stiles says, inclining his head down the hallway to Malia Tate walking up to them, school books tucked in one hand.

“At last. I’ve been looking for you two.” She says.

“Hi. Malia. Uh, what are you doing here?” Stiles knows he sounds a bit panicked and rude but the last time he saw Malia was in the basement of Eichen house.

“Going to school.” Malia deadpans, as if it’s the most natural think in the world for her to be there.

“Yeah, I, uh, can see that. Thank you.”

“I think what Stiles means is how did you get enrolled in public school when you been, you know, a coyote for the past 8 years?” Scott says.

“Marin helped. She used to work here so she pulled some strings. Helped me complete a few prerequisite tests and provided some transcripts.”

“And by provided you mean forged.” Stiles supplied.

Malia just shrugs. “Well, yeah. She’s pretty resourceful. But I am going to need a lot of help. Like you said, the last time I went to school there was still recess. So I was hoping you’d tutor me?”

“Uh, sure. But I don’t know how good at it I’ll be. I’ve missed some school lately and I’m a bit behind too.” Stiles takes a moment to realize what he was saying and remembers the last time he was alone with Malia they ended up having sex. Not that it wasn’t great but he also wasn’t in the best place then. He still hasn’t really thought about it or let it process that he’s not a virgin anymore. It got kind of pushed to the side with being possessed, Allison dying, and now whatever is going on with Lydia and him. All he knows is that he doesn’t really want to be alone with her right now. “But Scott’s doing pretty well, and he did say he’d teach you were-coyote stuff, so why don’t we all just study together?”

Scott is giving him a look that says, ‘dude, what is going on and why are you bringing me into this?’ Stiles ignores him. He’ll understand once he explains what happened in Eichen house. “In fact, why don’t we all get together after school at Scott’s house?”

“Yeah, okay.” Now two people are giving him weird looks, Scott annoyed and Malia confused. “Sure. I’ll see you after school.”

As Malia walks away Scott leans in and ask, “What was that about?”

“Yeah, there’s something I have to tell you.” Stiles says and tells him what happened in the basement of Eichen house on the way to first period.

 

* * *

 

Lydia likes Kira, she really does, but she has a tendency to ramble on, like Stiles occasionally does, and Lydia just doesn’t want the reminder right now. She’s done a fairly good job of avoiding him, embarrassed about her behavior last night. Its lunch break and Lydia has only had one class with Stiles this morning. Before class began he turned around and gave her a small, sad smile before she looked down at her book and didn’t look his way for the rest of class.

She contemplates hiding in the ladies room until her next class but rebels at the idea. Lydia Martin doesn’t hide, even from slim, pale boys who make her insides do new and different things.

She is walking to the cafeteria when Ethan emerges from the stairwell.

“Ethan. You’re here.” She says, sure that he was absent from econ this morning.

“I’m not staying. I just came to say goodbye to Danny.”

“You’re leaving?” She can’t help feeling a little worried at that. She and Aiden didn’t have a relationship based on long conversations, but she knew the twins stayed around hoping for the protection of a pack. She didn’t expect him to leave, especially not now that Aiden was gone and, in her opinion, Scott was starting to accept him being around.

“Yeah. Aiden and I, we pissed off a lot of people, and too many of those people know I’m here. Aiden died to help you. I can’t stay and put you all in more danger.”

Lydia gets it. She really does. Of the two of them, Ethan had the softer heart. That didn’t mean that the situation had to sit well with her though. “Just take care of yourself. And if you are ever in need of any help, you know where to find us.”

Lydia has faith in that. That if Ethan ever needed help, she’d help. And if she’d help, then Stiles would help, and Scott wouldn’t be far behind him with the rest of the pack. It’s what friends do. And after everything, even without Allison, Scott and Stiles were her friends.

 

* * *

 

That evening, after completing her homework, choosing an outfit for tomorrow and coordinating her nail polish, Lydia finds herself contemplating her revelation from earlier. All this time she’d thought of herself as an outsider to Scott’s pack, only there because of Allison. But that hasn’t been true for a very long time. She doesn’t know when it started but Allison brought her closer to Stiles, who brought her closer to Scott. She could also see Scott bringing her closer to Kira but it felt like a way off till she could consider Kira more than just an acquaintance.

In the days since Allison died – has it really only been a week- until today she never really thought about where she stood as far as friends went.

She’s never really had a lot of close friends. Sure she was popular and a lot of people wanted to hang around her and talk to her, but until Allison none of them were really close to her. But now Allison was gone and Lydia was forever changed. She didn’t want to go back to being the vapid, popular girl, hiding her genius. She couldn’t. Not after having someone like Allison, and Stiles, see her and accept her for who she really was.

Only, she spent the first day back at school avoiding Stiles.

Lydia has had a lot of boyfriends. She knows what lust and infatuation feel like. But she doesn’t know love, true love. She thought she did, at one time. Just another thing Allison taught her about herself.  

And Stiles, as far as she knows he’s never had a serious girlfriend, but he claims to love her all the same. She wonders at how they can both be at such opposite sides of the spectrum. She doesn’t want to ruin that for him by not loving him back like he deserves. She knows she has feelings for him, but she doesn’t know if they are love or not.

Last night she acted rashly, with alcohol and grief as her guide, before she had a chance to consider her actions. Because of it she may have hurt Stiles. And she couldn’t let that stand. Whatever she feels for him she can’t stand to have hurt him.

She quickly comes up with a plan and finds his number in her cell phone.

_‘We need to talk. Can I come over?’_ -Lydia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr: http://lilmissb46.tumblr.com/


	3. Old Lovers (I thought It’d be me)

Chapter 3: Old Lovers (I thought It’d be me)

 

_Malia Tate can be very persistent when she wants something_ , Stiles mused.

After studying at Scott’s all afternoon, Stiles was pleased at the progress the three of them made in their school work and with Malia’s training. She was actually able to bring her claws out and today was only their first session. He broke it up after receiving the text from Lydia, relieved that she wanted to talk to him. He told her to meet him at his house in 20 minutes then drove home from Scott’s.

He had just gotten home when Malia stopped by. She apparently followed him.

“Malia, what are you doing here?” He says, his body blocking her from stepping foot into his home, one hand on the door frame.

“I’m here because you’ve been avoiding me.”

“What? No I haven’t.” He knows it’s a lie and is only glad that she doesn’t yet know how to listen for a lie in his heartbeat.

“Yes you have. Does this have anything to do with us sleeping together?”

Stiles feels like pounding his head on the door jamb, this is not a situation that he is prepared to deal with. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“Wow. Thanks for clearing that up for me.”

In another place and time, Stiles would appreciate her sarcasm. Unfortunately it’s not doing anything for him right now.  “Look. I was in a bad place that night. And I’m not just talking about being in a mental institution. I don’t know how much of the situation you were aware of but I was possessed.”

“I know you were possessed Stiles.”

“Okay but did you also know that the only reason I was able to check myself into Echo house to keep my friends safe, from me, and the thing possessing me, was because a friend, Deaton, poisoned the nogitsune? It was the first time I was in control of my body in days.”

“No, that part’s new.”

“Well he did. As a result, I had these lines on my back. Remember I had you look at them and tell me if they were fading, before we…And you said that they were almost gone. Earlier, Ms. Morrell told me that when they faded the nogitsune would take possession again and she would kill me. So when a pretty, cool girl said she wanted to fool around, I didn’t say no.”

“So what you’re saying is that you only slept with me because you thought you were going to die?”

“I’m not proud of it, but yeah, kinda. I like you. I like how determined you are and your sarcasm, but I may have made a different choice if I knew I was going to live. I mean, we didn’t even have protection.”

Malia laughs at him and Stiles feel like a fool. His feels guilt for so many things that happened over the last few weeks, Malia included. But at the time he honestly thought he’d never see another day and just wanted something good to go out with. If losing his virginity was all that he got then he was going to take it and damn the consequences. Just one of the many poor choices he’s made.

“Oh, Stiles. You really are just a good guy aren’t you?” Malia is smiling at him and Stiles realizes that she’s not laughing because she thinks he’s stupid.

“What?”

“It was a good time. I wasn’t looking for any declarations of love or commitment. It was just sex, something I wanted to try. You don’t have to feel obligated to me or my feelings, because they aren’t going to be hurt. I like you, you’re sweet and good looking, but I’m okay with just having fun and fooling around if that’s what you want. And as for that other thing, I had my Dad get me the birth control shot after I had my first period. Who wants to mess with that? So no pregnancy and no diseases. I’m clean.”

Stiles didn’t know how big his Malia related guilt was until he got it off his chest, but just like that he finds the weight lifted. If only all his other sins could be so easy to get over. “Okay. Um, that’s good. Glad we cleared that up. Oh, and I’m clean too. In case you were wondering.”

“Good. So can we please be friends now?”

Stiles feels himself smiling, truly, the first time in what feels like forever, “Yeah I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Malia says, and leans in close, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands, still gripping the door and frame, clench, as she pulls her body flush with his and whispers in his ear, “I’d also like you to call me if you ever feel like having another good time.”

Stiles wants to tell her that he doesn’t think he’s the hook-up kind of guy. He wants to say something sexy and clever, but all that comes out is a stutter that he thinks is, “yeah, sure,” before she kisses his cheek and walks away.

He watches her walk down his driveway and sees Lydia’s car parked alongside the road. She’s sitting behind the wheel watching Malia walk away with a sad expression on her face. She catches Stiles watching her and gives him a contemptuous look before pulling away from the curb and driving off.

 

* * *

 

As far as his life goes, Stiles has had worse weeks. After Lydia drove off Monday night he tried to text her to explain and to come back and talk to him but she ignored him. So all week he hung out with Scott when they could. He spent some time with Malia, surprised that she was actually becoming a friend. (They both agreed that Scott and Kira made a cute couple but were respecting the fact that Scott needed time to deal with what happened to Allison.) He got caught up in his classes pretty fast, more able to concentrate on his subjects when he was avoiding thinking about other things.

Things like Lydia avoiding him. All week.

On Friday night he was still confused about Lydia when he gets a text from her. ‘ _Come and pick me up. I want to talk.’_

Stiles feels like he’s been hit with a semi full of feelings: hope that she wants to talk to him again, dread that she won’t want to be friends anymore, and everything in between.

He texts her back that he will be there in a few minutes, grabs his keys, and gets into his Jeep. She is waiting on her front steps when he pulls into her driveway. As she approaches his Jeep, Stiles notices that she is wearing one of her short skirts that he likes so much, the setting sun reflecting off the beautiful waves of her hair that bounce with each step she takes.

“Drive. Anywhere.” She commands as she climbs in the passenger seat.

He does. He, wisely, for once, keeps his mouth shut. She’s the one that wanted to talk so he decided to take his cues from her. Unfortunately she remains quiet for the entire trip, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek and grip the steering wheel to keep himself from blurting out all he wants to say to her. He takes her to the Beacon Hills preserve and drives down the path that will take him to the cliff overlooking the town. He shuts off the engine and they both watch the sunset for a while.

“I wanted to say I was sorry for that night, after Allison’s funeral.” She speaks, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap.

“Which part, the kiss or the running off after?” Stiles asks. He can’t look at her, anxious of either answer.

“Both, I think.”

“I don’t get it Lydia. I know we’ve never really talked about it but that wasn’t the first time you kissed me. And I know you say that it was to stop a panic attack, but we both know you could have found another way. You want to know what I think. You have feelings for me. Normal people don’t just kiss people they don’t have feelings for, for any reason, not like you kissed me, both times. But for whatever reason, you don’t want to admit it.”

“I do. I do have feelings for you, Stiles.” Stiles meets her eyes, his heart in his throat. Lydia has the beginnings of tears in her eyes and is looking at him with such a heartbroken expression on her face, he immediately feels like an asshole for doubting her.

“I just don’t know what they are.” She continues. “You became my friend. One of the only people that ever got me and accepted me. And I knew you liked me, but you were so great about it. You never pressured me or expected anything from me because you liked me, not like how other boys would have. You treated me like a person. Then, when you disappeared, all I could think about was finding you, but when I couldn’t I felt terrible, like I let you down, and I hated that. Then, when Void said you were dying, and I saw it for myself and Allison died, I knew I couldn’t lose you too. I saw you hold that katana to yourself and all I could think about was how I was going to have to live the rest of my life without you in it.”

“Lydia-“Stiles reaches for her as the tears start to fall.

“Then Aiden died and you lived and I was so relived. You know there was a moment, after, when I thought that if someone had to die that night, I was glad it was Aiden and not you. What kind of terrible person thinks that? You’d never think that. Then it was all over and I was so alone. So when I went to your house that night, and I kissed you, I didn’t know if it was because I didn’t want to be alone. And I ran because I felt guilty for wanting you and something good after Allison was gone, guilty because I chose you to live over _Aiden_.” Her voice breaks on Aiden’s name and Stiles cups her face in his hands as she begins to sob.

“Lydia, listen to me.” He wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. She really is still beautiful when she cries. “You have nothing to feel guilty for. You didn’t choose me over Aiden. It didn’t work like that. “

“How do you know?” She cries, looking at him like he really could know. “We know next to nothing about what being a banshee means. I didn’t even hear his death coming. Not like Allison’s. I _felt_ Allison’s.”

Stiles didn’t know that. He feels his own tears start to come, imagining Lydia feeling Allison’s death in a way that the rest of them didn’t.

“Maybe if I had been closer to Aiden, cared more about him, I could have at least tried to stop it, or warn him, like I tried with Allison.”

“It’s okay.” He pulls the bawling girl into his arms and rocks her gently, hands rubbing circles on her back, getting caught in the strawberry-blonde locks. “You’re okay. I know we don’t know much about banshees, but we will. Okay? I’ll find out. Look stuff up. We’ll do it together. And you’ll see it doesn’t work like that. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay.” He feels her nod, head on his shoulder and chin digging into his back. She pulls away after and wipes at her face. Stiles knows that they still have a lot to talk about but for a while they just sit and enjoy the view and each other’s company.

 

* * *

 

The leave the Jeep and are sitting on an old blanket Stiles keeps in the back for emergencies. The sun has set and lights twinkle below them in the town and above them in the sky. Lydia is reclining with her hands behind her and feet crossed at the ankles in front of her. Stiles sits next to her, legs crossed Indian-style.

“You said something earlier,” Stiles begins, “about not feeling like you deserved anything good after Allison died. I actually said the same thing to Scott. But hearing you say it, it made me realize that Allison wouldn’t have wanted that. She loved us and she would have wanted us to be happy, no matter what the circumstances.”

“Why didn’t you feel like you deserved something good?”

“Because of the Nogitsune. Everything it did. It feels like my fault. Like if I had just done something different, it wouldn’t have gotten in and taken control. When I was in Eichen house, when I was in control again, there was a part where it felt like I had a second chance to not let it in. It had Malia and it was going to hurt her unless I let it in. So I did. I felt it hurt people. I was there as it plotted death and pain for everyone around me. So many people may still be alive if I had just let it kill Malia.”

“But that’s not you Stiles. Even if you knew what was going to happen, and were put in that position again, I don’t think you could have chosen to let someone you care about be hurt.”

“Just like you didn’t chose me to live over Aiden?” Lydia smiles at how he turns it back around on her. He sees her point.

“Right. Speaking of Malia, what’s going on there?”

Stiles chuckles, but not out of amusement. More out of relief that they are talking again and back to their old banter and rhythm. “Nothing’s going on. We’re just friends.”

“Didn’t look like nothing when I saw you Monday night.” Lydia says, trying to go for light but not fooling Stiles. He remembers the look on her face when she saw them.

“Well, okay. Um, we were at Eichen house together, and I kinda had sex with her in a moment of weakness. But that’s all there was.” He quickly explains. “When you saw us I told her that I didn’t want a relationship with her and she sorta implied that we could keep it casual. I declined.” Lydia gives him a skeptical look and he puts his hands up, “Hey, I’m not a casual guy. I mean, I’ve been in love with the same person since the 3rd grade.” He swallows, nervous because he knows she’s smart enough to get who he is talking about.

“Really?” She is still giving him that skeptical look, but it’s more amused now than before, “And you’ve never wanted anyone else?”

“Well,” he decides to go for it. After all, the last time he did he got her to dance with him. Maybe that was what it took to get Lydia. “I’ve _wanted_ some others, but I’ve never loved them. Not like I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

His palms are sweating at the admission. It’s the first time he’s come out and actually said it to her face.

“Stiles,” She sits up as her hands cradle his face. She’s looking deep into his eyes. Stiles can’t remember the last time he was this nervous. “I like you. More than I’ve liked anyone. I don’t know if I love you, l don’t know what that is, but I’d like to try. So can we try? Can we start over?”

“ _Hell_ yeah!” He says as if all the happiness that has just sprung up inside him has physically pushed the words from his mouth. Lydia laughs at his enthusiasm and pulls him down on top of her.

They kiss. They don’t gasp into each other as if they are dying and filled with grief. Their lips meet gently, Stiles pouring all his love into it as if to show her what his love is. They kiss for what feels like decades, and to Stiles it’s as if the past few weeks never happened. There is no room in his heart for grief, regret, guilt, or sorrow. Only joy. Lydia may not love him, but she wants to try. And for now, that’s good enough for him.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what comes next? If you guessed smut, you're right! 
> 
> Also, I come from the land of fanfiction.net, so I'm not sure how AO3 is, but I have almost 1000 hits on this story and only 64 kudos and 2 comments. Should I be worried? I want to go back after this is complete and do the editing I didn't get to do yet, so any constructive criticism, or just telling me what you liked or felt would really help me out in the long run. Thank you!


	4. We ain’t leaving this room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best! Thank you for the reviews. You really helped me gain my confidence in this story and fandom. You have no idea how much just a couple of comments can motivate. 
> 
> With that, I give you porn!

Chapter 4: We ain’t leaving this room

(Pure smut)

The weekend was passing by too quickly for Lydia’s liking. After Stiles dropped her off at home Friday night they had made plans to go out on a proper date on Saturday night. It was the best date Lydia had ever been on. They had made plans to go to dinner and a movie, but got distracted walking around the park near the theater and completely missed the movie. At dusk they drove to the cliff and watched the sunset again. They ended up missing the sun dipping down below the horizon when Lydia’s hand dipped below Stiles’ pants.

Stiles was extremely responsive, a fact that Lydia loved, almost as much as how graciously he returned the favor. They didn’t have sex that night, but, as sweet as it was, Lydia really wasn’t one to take things slow. Especially now that she knew just what Stiles could do with those long, dare she say elegant, fingers of his.

So come Sunday night, she told her mom she was staying at a friend’s house, packed a bag, and drove to Stiles’ house. She knew his dad would be working all night, something he did quite regularly as the Sherriff, so they’d be alone to do whatever they wanted. And Lydia wanted to do a lot.

When she gets to his house she rings the doorbell. It’s not that late but when Stiles answers the door, surprised to see her, he is wearing his pajamas. His hair is wet, too, like he just took a shower.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” She replies. “Were you sleeping?”

“No. I just kind of felt like doing a sweatpants Sunday kinda thing.”

She’s glad that she didn’t wake him up. Even though it’s been almost 2 weeks since the nogitsune was defeated, Stiles still has trouble sleeping. Her confusion about the ‘sweatpants Sunday’ thing must show on her face.

“It’s uh, when you just sit around in your sweats all day eating junk food, playing video games, and watching TV.” He looks a little embarrassed.

“So basically it’s just a day spent being lazy?”

“Yup. Pretty much.” He agrees and moves to usher her inside. “We didn’t have plans did we?” He says, shutting the door. “Cause if we did I can go change, just give me-“

She doesn’t let him finish. She pushes him up against the door and kisses him, pressing her body against his. “ _I_ have plans. So many plans. But none of them involve us leaving your bed tonight.”

She can actually hear him swallow. His eyes dilate quickly in lust and he nods his head, takes her hand and leads her up the stairs to his room. She’s pleased at how easily she can render him speechless.

Once they reach his room Lydia drops her bag by the door and pulls him close. “Do you have condoms?” He nods, still speechless. “Good.” She kisses him again, fisting her hands in the worn t-shirt he has on. His hands go to her hips and pull her in till she can feel him through his sweats. She walks them back towards the bed. Stiles stumbles into it and she pushes him down until he is sitting on it with her standing between his spread knees.

She’s wearing a dress that buttons down the front all the way to the bottom. She slowly unbuttons it, revealing to Stiles the lacy bra and panty set she has on underneath. Letting the dress drop to the floor, she crawls into his lap, straddling him. Stiles gasps in a breath as their cloth covered pelvis’s come into contact, fingers resting low on her hips. Stiles’ fingers play at the lace of her panties before slipping underneath and cupping her cheeks. Their lips meet, tongues battle, and Lydia moans when Stiles pulls, grinding them together.

She pushes them back and rolls her hips. His fingers grip her harder as he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Lydia plays with the idea of making him beg, making him lose control enough to leave bruises, but decides to save it for another time that isn’t their first. She realizes how badly she wants this as well and doesn’t think she could stand the waiting.

She trails her hands up and under his shirt, and he has to move his hands away from her backside to help her pull it off. She is surprised by what it reveals. She’s always thought of Stiles as skinny, but under his clothes he actually has some muscle. His chest is defined and stomach trim. A small trail of dark hair leads from his bellybutton and disappears down his pants, which hang off of defined hipbones. She’s glad his clothes hide all this. It’s something she wants to keep for herself.

His hands tangle in her hair and their lips meet in teasing kisses. She rolls her hips again and runs her hands over the soft skin of his chest. When her fingertips brush over his nipples he lets out a choked moan that causes her to do it again. His eyes close and his head drops to the mattress. Her lips trail down to kiss along his neck to his nipples. Lydia’d never had a guy with such sensitive nipples and spends a few minutes licking, biting, and sucking them the way she likes on her own.

Stiles is panting hard by the time she works her way down his body. She’s glad for the sweatpants because she pulls them down easily, taking his boxers with them. The night before Lydia learned that Stiles had absolutely nothing to worry about in regards to his erection. She does what she’s been fantasizing about all day, gripping the base, she licks her way to the tip before swallowing the head.

 _“Oh my God!”_ He shouts as she takes him in deep, smiling as much as she is able because that is such a Stiles thing to say. His hands come to tangle in her hair and she can feel him restrain himself. No one ever said she didn’t have a mean streak, so she bobs on his cock, taking him as far as she can every time, pulling away to shallow sucks when she thinks he’s getting too close. Stiles keeps up a steady mantra of ‘Oh, god,’ and ‘Lydia, please,’

It’s during a round of shallow sucking and gently licking him back from the edge that he meets her eyes. She sinks her lips as far to his base as she can, and arches an eyebrow in challenge. He seems to understand as his hands tighten in her hair and he gently starts setting the pace he wants.

His eyes stay on her, mesmerized by the sight of her ruby red lips wrapped around his cock, until he seemingly can’t take it anymore, head falling back and eyes closing with a chocked off, ‘oh god, oh god, oh god.’ Lydia loves the rapturous look on his face and for a moment thinks she could come just from sucking him off. Her panties are already soaked.

Stiles begins to move his hips, thrusting up while pushing her down with his hands. She’s had other lovers lose control and thrust up so hard she thought she’d bruise. Not Stiles though, he’s at the brink and Lydia is almost brought to tears by how gentle he is still being. She holds his hips and urges him on, letting him know that she can take more.

He’s becoming more erratic and moans, “Lydia, god, I’m gonna-“She knows it’s a warning but has no intention of stopping. She dips as low as she can. His hands hold her in place and Stiles lets out a strangled shout that may have been her name. She swallows his release and pulls off with an obscene pop to take in Stiles’ wrecked form.

His chest is covered with sweat and he must have grabbed his hair at some point, the wet flattened locks now standing up closer to his usual style. His cheeks are flushed and his lips look bitten. Unable to resist, she crawls up his body and kisses him deep, tongue exploring his mouth and tangling with his before being pursued into her own. She loves how he doesn’t shy away for the taste of his own release still lingering in her mouth.

“Mmmm, I hope that’s not all you got, Stilinski.”

“Hardly. Just give me a moment.” Lydia sits up, reaches back and unclasps her bra. She discards it on the floor and at the sight of her bare skin, Stiles seems to regain his bearings, “Or not. Now is good.”

With that he sits up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her waist. He twists their bodies so that Lydia’s back hits the mattress, her head on his pillow. Now that they are sprawled fully on his bed, Stiles begins to run his hands over her skin. When his lips capture her nipples, she is glad that her earlier attention to his is paying off. He works at them with lips, teeth, and tongue, using her own techniques against her and sending bolts of pleasure racing to her core.

So lost in the sensations of his mouth on her chest, she doesn’t notice his hand traveling down her body until it cups at her still covered sex. They both moan at the moisture he finds there and his lips leave her tit. Quickly he pulls off her panties and kisses his way down her stomach.

Lydia should have known from last night that Stiles believes in reciprocating. He’s also a fast learner with a serious oral fixation. Still, that didn’t prepare her for the first swipe of his tongue across her folds. He teases her with little licks and sucks to her clit. She’s never been a beggar but she almost does to get him to show her some relief. He seems to know her state when a finger teases at her opening.

For a while she is entranced watching his head move between her legs. She runs her hands through his hair, marveling at the softness. Occasionally he looks up and their eyes meet and his look of awe is the most intimate thing she’s ever experienced. He must be hard again, because she can see his hips move occasionally, seeking whatever friction he can.

He times his thrusts to coincide with gentle sucks to her clit.  Her hands grip the sheets and she begins to move her hips with him. His fingers leave her entrance and his tongue takes their place. His hands hold her hips and support her as she practically rides his face. She knows she is moaning loudly and probably saying his name but she just doesn’t care. She’s fortunate that Stiles doesn’t have the same mean streak she does or she knows she’d be begging.

She feels herself getting closer and as good as it would feel to come around his tongue, that’s not what she wants now. “Stiles, wait. Stop.”

She is a little bit in love with how quickly he stops and the concerned look on his face, worried that he’s hurt her. No one had ever treated her like that. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Better than okay. But, I want to come with you inside me.” The look on his face is priceless. As if he still didn’t believe that even after all this she was going to have sex with him. “Where are your condoms?”

“They’re just- over there.” He scrambles to reach up to his dresser beside the bed. He flails a little and Lydia grins to see a bit of the old Stiles. When he retrieves the silver packet from the drawer, he sits up beside her and tears it open.

She grabs it out of his hands, “Lay back,” she commands, pushing gently on his chest until he falls back, “let me do it.” He does. She straddles him again and rolls the condom on. Once it is properly in place she lines herself up with him and sinks down, keeping their eyes locked the whole time, wanting to see and experience his reaction.

He doesn’t disappoint. Stiles eyes go huge and his mouth works but no sound comes out. Lydia relishes in the feeling of being filled with him. She can feel his love and reverence for her as well, and the whole experience is so far from what she ever could have imagined. 

She moves her hips and Stiles breaks eye contact to watch her take him into herself. His hands dance across her thighs to grab her hips, and he begins to help her along, pulling and pushing, with and against her own thrusts.  She leans back, hands bracing herself on his thighs and begins to roll her hips, up and down, back and forth; clockwise and counter clockwise. She tilts her head back, enjoying the motion, her hair long enough to tickle at Stiles’ legs.

“Oh, Lydia. You’re so beautiful.”

She loves how he watches her, so she raises herself up as far as she can go without losing their connection, then slowly sinks back down. At Stiles’ gasped out, ‘Holy fuck!’ she knows he enjoyed it as much as she did. She does it again, and again, and again, letting the feeling of the wet slide of their bodies and Stiles’ choked out curses bring her closer and closer.

She’s surprised when Stiles sits up and crosses his legs beneath her. The new position stops her from pulling off as much but it puts her breasts at the perfect height for Stiles to nip and suck at her nipples. He does with enthusiasm, and soon the room is filled with the sound of her voice. It doesn’t last long. Both of them are too wound up, wanted each other too much and in Stiles’ case too long.

He pushes her back and she goes easily, head resting at the foot of the bed with Stiles above her. His thrusts become harder, faster, the new position allowing Stiles to hit spots inside her that made her call out his name and clench her thighs tight to his hips. His pelvic bone hits her clit with every thrust and soon she is clinging tight to him and he to her.

“Oh Stiles, I’m coming!” She clenches around him and feels him pulse within her as well. He muffles his shout into her neck, hips slowing as they both ride out their orgasm. Their hips still but for the occasional little aftershock. She feels his hot breath on her neck and their skin sticking together with sweat. She enjoys the weight of him on top of her, loves how it makes her feel like they’re one person.

Stiles places a kiss to her neck before his hands come up, sweeping her hair away from her face. He kisses her gently, pulls out, and gets up to dispose of the condom. She rearranges herself to lay at the head of the bed and watches the way his body moves. He seems unsure when he returns, and hesitantly pulls her to his side. She snuggles into him and wraps an arm around his chest, trying to reassure him.

“Well, well, well. Stiles Stilinski: good in bed. Who would’ve thought?” She says, teasingly.

He snorts and it’s the most adorable thing to her. “I don’t know what bathroom walls you’ve been reading, but that’s old news, sister.”

She props herself up on one elbow, “Did you just call me sister?” He laughs and she attacks his sides, fingers tickling as he tries to twist away.

“Okay! Okay! I give!” He says, grabbing her wrists. She stops her assault and lays back down. He’s still out of breath from laughter when he says, “Sister is out! So sorry Sugar pops!”

She has a rueful grin on her face as she grabs the pillow from behind their heads and begins to smack him with it, laughing the whole time. She doesn’t stop even when his phone starts to ring.

Stiles grabs the pillow and launches it across the room. They miss the call as he begins to attach her neck with his lips. Her laughter turns to moans as his lips caress the sensitive skin below her ears. He pushes at her gently and rolls atop her. He falls easily into the cradle of her hips. Round two seems immanent when his phone rings again.

Stiles groans and reaches for his phone, Lydia intercepts his hand, “Let it ring.” She thrusts herself up against him then, letting her wetness glide against his half-hard cock.

He gasps in surprise and she feels his hand tighten in her own. “I-I can’t. It’s probably Scott. If I don’t answer he’ll just worry and keep calling. He may even come over and none of my fantasies involve my best friend being the interruptus to my coitus.”

With a pout she let go of his hand and let him grab the phone on the bedside table. When he answers with a “Hey Scott,” Lydia rubs herself against him, causing him to squeak out the last syllable of his best friend’s name.

He gives her a dirty look when he recovers and she arches an eyebrow in response. She can barely make out the sound of Scott saying something.

“I’m home.” He continues his conversation with Scott and Lydia continues to rub her wet folds against him. He squeezes his eyes shut and his forehead drops to the pillow next to her head. With the phone closer to her ear she can hear Scott’s voice but can’t make out what he’s saying. Stiles is fully hard now and she can tell he’s struggling to keep his moans and gasps inside. She wonders if he even hears what Scott is saying to him. Angling her hips, she places the tip of his erection at her opening, teasing at engulfing him. That’s the straw that breaks him and he tells Scott, “I really have to go.” He quickly throws out an “I’ll call you later,” before ending the call and tossing it into the abyss of the room.

He attacks her lips, kissing her so deeply she feels penetrated. “You are…100%...evil,” he tells her between kisses.

“Mmm hmm.” She agrees. “Fuck me.” And he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 word count: 2008  
> Chapter 2 word count: 2320  
> Chapter 3 word count: 2724  
> Chapter 4 word count: 3059
> 
> I find it kinda funny that the smut chapter is the longest. :)


	5. Use Me for Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Have a little more porn before we go back to the plot.

Chapter 5: Use Me for Good

 

 

Stiles has imagined what sleeping with Lydia would be like for years now. However the reality doesn’t even compare. He’s not just talking about the sex part either.

They had fallen asleep while wrapped up in each other sometime after their third round last night. Stiles had always thought he’d be too nervous to rest comfortably around her, too amped up from being in her presence to settle and just sleep. Then after he sacrificed himself to the nematon, sleeping through a night became a memory. Falling asleep next to Lydia was surprisingly easy. He didn’t sleep through the night, but rather than a nightmare waking him it was Lydia. And he thoroughly enjoyed the view of her walking naked to her bag to put on sleepwear.

He’s awake now, a little earlier than he needs to be up to go to school but late enough that it wouldn’t be worth it to go back to sleep. Lydia is spooned in front of him and he’s trying not to wake her, but her little purple nighty and ass pressed to his crotch is making it difficult. He can’t even move back so that his morning erection isn’t pressing into her, because, it turns out, Lydia Martin is a bed hog and he is sandwiched between her and the wall.

He wants to be annoyed at the fact that he loves her more for this little revelation, but he just can’t. He’s too amused and giddy about teasing her for it later. He wonders if he’ll ever not love everything about her.

As if sensing his thoughts are on her, Lydia gives a sleepy moan and wiggles more fully into his embrace. The movement causes Stiles to gasp at the wonderful pressure on his crotch. She comes into contact with his unclothed erection and he can feel Lydia’s amusement as she sways her hips into him. The silk of her nighty is cool and slides easily against his cock, cradled in the crack of her ass.

A hand reaches back, and Stiles watches as a small, manicured hand grips his erection and pumps him slowly. He reaches around, pushes up her nighty and uses two fingers to rub at her clit. He strokes it a couple of times before plunging his fingers into her and curling them in the way she taught him she likes. He finds her wet and doesn’t know or fucking _care_ if she is still sopping from last night or just so desperate to have him, because it’s such a _fucking_ turn on that he now _knows how Lydia Martin likes to be fingered_.

Lydia pushes his hand away and turns to lie on her stomach, grabbing a pillow and placing it under her hips. Stiles goes easily with her, knees between her own and feels like a man on fire at the sight of her bare assed and ready, propped on his favorite pillow.

He doesn’t bother with a condom. After he had recklessly thrust inside her after she teased him on the phone with Scott, they decided that since they were both STD-free and Lydia was on birth control that they didn’t need one. He’s glad for it now because he doesn’t think he can wait long enough to put one on. As it is lining himself up correctly takes too much time.

Oh, but it is worth it to be inside her this way. He can feel every contour of her wrapped around his dick, the heat and grip of her almost too much. It feels different this way, deeper, with her ass pressed against his front. For a moment he has to struggle not to come straight off. This position has always been a particular favorite fantasy of his and boy, is the reality really living up to it.

When Lydia whines and rolls her hips, Stiles knows he has to get with the program. He loses himself in her movements, content at first to let her thrust back into him- god how does she move like that- before he begins to meet her, moving with and against her as the mood strikes him.

He’s not going to last long this way. Not with the girl he loves pressing her body into his, gripping his sheets and calling out his name. Stiles wonders if she knows just how wanton and sexy she is in bed, the way her hair seems to fall just right and her body flushes to match it, the way she bites her lips before moaning, almost if she wants to hold the sounds in before deciding against it. And the way she moves, Stiles will never be able to not get an erection every time she sashays down the hallway in her heels, knowing intimately how talented she is with her hips.

Their thrust pick up and become erratic. As much as he loves how tender and slow they were the first time, he knows know how liberating and satisfying they both find a hard fuck. Lydia is panting out, “fuck me, fuck me, oh, fuck me,” as Stiles slams into her repeatedly, the sound of flesh slapping together echoing.

He feels his orgasm building, like a string being pulled taught from his heart to his crotch, where he and Lydia are joined. It’s not a feeling he’s ever experienced with any other orgasm he’s ever had, and he thinks it has something to do with their connection, with Lydia being his tether. He wonders if she feels it too.

He feels his balls draw close to his body, the first prickling sensations of completion tingling at his lower back. One of his hands sneaks around and massages Lydia’s clit. He wants her to come, wants to feel her body pull and convulse around him. With a shout she does, and at her, “Oh YES Stiles!” he feels himself go, pulsing into her, wanting to pour as much of himself into her as he can. As if by doing so she’ll love him like he loves her.

 

* * *

 

After, they’ve fallen back to their original positions, with Stiles as the big spoon. Their sweat is still cooling on their skin when Lydia says, “I think I broke my record.”

“What record?” Stiles pants, still catching his breath. With Lydia as multitalented as she is, it could be anything.

“Most orgasms in one weekend.” She answers, Stiles thinks that he hears a tiny bit of awe in the statement.

He pulls her even closer and kisses a line up her neck, breathes her in behind her ear before nipping at the lobe, “I guess I’m insatiable.”

It’s as if someone throws a switch on Lydia’s body. As soon as he breaths the words out, she goes from pliant and lose in his arms to tense and rigid. He pulls away, concerned. “Lydia?”

She doesn’t answer, chest heaving with struggling breath. He backs away further, worried at the panicked and terrified look in her green eyes; wide, glazed over, and staring off in the distance at something only she can see. Hesitantly, he reaches out and touches her shoulder, giving her a slight shake, “Lydia!”

She snaps out of it with a strangled gasp, turning her terrified eyes to him, the expression melting off as her eyes search his face, seeing his concerned expression. “Lydia, what happened?”

“Nothing. It’s fine.” She won’t meet his eyes when she says it. Stiles has said that same thing a hundred times before so he knows its bullshit. He suddenly understands why Scott came up with the Honestly Only policy.

“No, Lydia, it’s not fine.” He knows he sounds annoyed, so he takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. Lydia can be just as stubborn as him sometimes and starting an argument and getting her defenses up is no way to get an explanation out of her. “I saw your face just then. That was not the face of someone who is fine.”

“Stiles can we just drop it, please? It’s in the past and there’s nothing that can be done to change it.”

Stiles get that. There’s so much in his past that is unchangeable through talking. But Scott always seems to get him to talk about it, and as much as he hates it, he does feel better after, knowing that someone else understands the parts of him that hurt. He wants to be that for Lydia.

“I know, but whatever it is, it’s obviously still affecting you. So would you please just talk to me? I really want us to be able to be honest with one another.”

They are both sitting up in his bed now. Her hair hides her face as she looks down, as if she’s trying to hide from him. She tells him about it, slowly and haltingly, “You know, I spent a lot of time with the nogitsune. Almost a whole day when he took me. I was so scared the entire time, and he played with that. Every fear I had, you dying, whether I’d be found. He chased me around that basement with them, until I was cornered, then he said something to me that made my stomach roll and I could have thrown up. He said that he ate what I felt, and that he was insatiable. I guess hearing you say that just now brought it all back.”

Stiles feels his stomach drop and shame prickle all over his body. He feels cold and sick to his stomach that he brought that fear back to Lydia. _Oh God, what other things have I said or done that remind her of the nogitsune?_

Lydia must see something change in his expression. “Stiles?”

He pulls away as much as he can, not knowing how to move on from this conversation or feeling. He looks for any excuse he can and spots the clock by the wall. “Uh, we’d better get ready to go to school. We have to be there soon.” He climbs out of bed, it’s a little awkward since he’s the one by the wall, and retreats to the bathroom to shower on his own.

 

* * *

 

When she was 6, Lydia used to collect dolls. Her father got them for her every Christmas. One year, he had one made in her likeness. When she opened it on Christmas morning, it had been smashed beyond repair. She still thinks of that doll from time to time, remembering what her own face rendered in porcelain had looked like, cracked and falling to pieces. It’s how she imagines her soul looks, especially right now.

She feels so broken. The feeling is so much more pronounced now, after her weekend spent in bliss with Stiles. But now she feels like she’s broken something before she could see how great it could be, all because she was dumb enough to confuse memory with reality. More than ever, she wishes Allison was here to talk to about this.

They didn’t really talk much as they got ready and headed to school.  Stiles wouldn’t even make eye contact with her, barely saying goodbye as they got into their respective vehicles and drove off.

She wishes she could explain to him how she felt earlier, but she can’t even explain the action to herself. When Stiles was possessed, she could always see clearly past the familiar face to know that it was not!Stiles. Every look, breath, move, and smell betrayed him to her.

Ever since she became his tether, she’s felt it inside her, even if at first she didn’t know what it was. It started out with just an awareness of his presence, like a humming in the back of her mind that told her he was on the other side of a door or about to turn the corner. When Stiles went missing, she felt like every beat of her heart pulled at something. Something she followed, urged on by the whispers, to try to find him. She felt it more acutely after she and Scott entered his mind and drew him out. When Void took her, she felt like her heart was on a tether that had been let slack, only pulled tight again when Stiles came for her, and fully formed as she supported his weakening body.

So no, never did she confuse the nogitsune for Stiles. All she ever had to do was look at him and feel the thread around her heart pulling in the opposite direction to know it wasn’t him. So why did one word set her off?

She thinks about it all day. Stiles is avoiding her and classes are always a breeze, so she can give the matter adequate thought. By the end of the school day she still hasn’t figured a way to explain it and fix the guilt she sees in Stiles’ eyes every time he looks at her. She makes her way to a familiar building and lets herself in with the key Allison gave her.

She expects Allison’s apartment to bring the metallic taste of metal to her mouth that comes when she is in a place haunted by past death. It doesn’t. It’s just quiet. Despite the warmth of the day the apartment feels cold without anyone being here to warm it. Everything looks the same in Allison’s room and Lydia can still smell the body spray she gave her for her birthday. There is still dirty clothes in her hamper, a bed unmade, and homework sitting out for her to complete. Like all of her things are just waiting for her to return.

  _‘Someone should tell them she isn’t coming back,’_ she thinks hysterically and sinks down onto her bed. “I miss you,” she says out loud and, surrounded by the leftover pieces of Allison’s life, lets the tears that have been building all day fall.

 

* * *

 

Stiles doesn’t sleep again that night and has trouble paying attention in class the next day, regardless of how much Adderall he takes.

All day Monday he thought of Lydia, but still avoided her, embarrassed and afraid that he’d do or say something and bring back that fearful look in her eyes. Scott didn’t come to school that day either and Kira was missing from his afternoon classes, despite being there just that morning. He tried calling Scott after school but got no answer and only a brief text back later let him know that Scott wasn’t dead. He wishes he could remember what Scott had said or the tone of his voice when he called Sunday night, but he was too wrapped up in the smell and feel of Lydia beneath him to pay much attention. The only thing he remembers about the call was that Scott had been insistent in finding out where he was.

So Tuesday morning when he sees Scott at his locker, he walks up to him and demands to know what is going on.

“Nothing.” Scott answers but Stiles gets the feeling he is not telling the truth.

“Bull. Why’d you call me Sunday demanding to know where I was?”

“Can’t I be curious? Besides, you said you’d call me back later and you didn’t.”

“Yea! I did.”

“Not until Monday afternoon. What was going on with you anyway? You sounded really weird when we were talking.”

Stiles stares at Scott, knowing the question for the subject change that it is. Thinking on how he feels, he decides to go for exasperated but honest, not really wanting to fight with anyone else at the time. Besides, if Scott _was_ keeping something from him, he’d never be able to keep it to himself for long. “Well Scott, you try carrying on a conversation with a beautiful, naked girl wrapped around you and see how normal you sound.”

Scott blushes, but Stiles can see how happy he is, “So you and Lydia are official now? I take it the date Saturday went well then.”

“The whole weekend was great. Then I said something and now I don’t know if I can ever look her in the eye again.”

Just as he is about to launch into the whole story, Kira appears around the corner, holding her hand over the receiver of her cell phone and gesturing Scott over. Stiles can feel Scott’s attention immediately swing to Kira. He can see how much he physically wants to go to her, an anxious look in his eye that has nothing to do with his lovey-dovey feelings for the girl. “Scott is something going on I should know about.”

Someone not as familiar with the expressions and mannerisms of Scott McCall may have missed the guilty look on his face before it was wiped clean, replaced with a guileless expression. “No, nothing. I just have to go and talk to Kira real quick,” he says, clasping Stiles’ shoulder before heading off.

“This conversation isn’t over!” Stiles calls after him before sighing and heading to his first class.

 

* * *

 

By lunch time he hasn’t been able to talk to Scott much, but he has decided that he has to do something about Lydia. He doesn’t know if they’ll ever get back to the fun and easy time they had this weekend, but he doesn’t want to continue avoiding her gaze. The idea is physically painful to him.

He finds her at her locker, “Hi. Can we talk?” She looks surprised to see him speaking to her but she nods and he leads her to the locker room, knowing that no one uses it this time of day.

“Uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry.” He starts once they are alone.

“Stiles-no. I’m sorry.” He goes to interrupt her again but she places a finger to his lips, “What happened yesterday morning, it wasn’t you fault. I think that anyone who said that to me in that way would have reminded me of that night. I wasn’t reminded just because it was you who said it. The whole time, every time, I saw the nogitsune, I knew it wasn’t you. It didn’t even look like you in my eyes. So if you’re thinking that your presence is going to bring back horrible memories, don’t. I don’t blame you for anything that happened, because I know it wasn’t you.”

“That’s nice and all Lydia but it still feels like me that did those things.”

“Stiles don’t. Please don’t. I’m sorry that you were made to do those things, but I do know what it’s like having your body betray you. Remember Peter? So please trust me when I say that you are blameless. And if you can’t trust in that, please trust that I want to be with you.”

“Always Lydia. I always trust you.” It’s the most natural thing for him to lean down and kiss her, and it makes him feel like he can breathe again.

 

* * *

 

They are emerging from the locker room when they spot Scott and Kira down the hall, apparently having a heated debate if their hand gestures are anything to go by. Stiles feels the frustration from his earlier conversation with Scott reemerge, and suddenly he pettily can’t wait to tell him how he and Lydia ‘made up’ against his gym locker.

“Hey Lydia, have you talked to Kira lately?”

“No, not really. Why?”

“Because something’s up.” He nods toward the pair, who have seemed to come to some sort of agreement and are walking purposely toward the exit of the school. “And I need to find out why Scott and Kira are keeping it from me.”

 

 


	6. Put Your Faith to the Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of the shortest chapters of this fic, but it does have one of my favorite scenes. The next chapter is probably going to be the last and longest from the way its playing out. Enjoy.

Chapter 6: Put Your Faith to the Test

 

By Thursday evening Stiles still hasn’t found out what Kira and Scott are up to and he can feel his frustration building to new peaks. “I can’t believe we lost them, again!” He says, letting his head fall to the steering wheel of his jeep. This is the second time this week. Stiles has even tried calling Derek but got no answer. The jerk was probably screening his calls. Deaton went out of town on Monday so there was no help from that corner either.

“Face it, Stilinski. We may have the brains, but they have the supernatural abilities that can see and smell us coming from a mile away.”

Stiles already knows this and doesn’t need the reminder. He bangs his forehead against the wheel again in frustration.

“I don’t get it. If they’re dodging us then they know that we know something’s up. Why don’t they just come out and tell us?”

Lydia shrugs and twirls a lock of hair around her finger, a habit she’s picked up when she’s internalizing something. Stiles thinks it’s left over from the days when she used to pretend to be an air head. “I don’t know. They’re stubborn? Or maybe they don’t think we can help. An amateur banshee and a boy with a bat? Not much good against the big bad supernatural.”

“Yeah, I…lost the bat.” Stiles admits mournfully, thinking that the last time he had it was when they saved Kira from Barrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I have to go buy a new one.” He sighs, “But-that’s- _beside_ the point. None of that’s ever stopped us from helping before.”

They’d debated themselves around in circles for the past couple of days, always coming back to the same point: There was trouble and Scott and Kira were facing it on their own. Lydia must feel his frustration because she cups his face in her hands and kisses him.

“Get in the backseat and take off your pants.”

Suddenly the night’s not such a waste after all.

 

* * *

 

Later Lydia is exploring Stiles’ bare chest and contemplating his body. They are sprawled in the back of his jeep in the abandoned parking lot they lost Scott and Kira in. Stiles’ clever fingers dance up and down her back and the cool night breeze drifting in from the cracked-open windows plays with her hair. His fingers linger longer around the slight scars from Peter’s attack, rubbing small circles into them as though he could blur them out and erase the evidence of violence from her.

It makes her smile, and she rubs her nose against his shoulder fondly, an urge she’s never had before, and asks, “Do you have any scars?”

She feels him tense beneath her, “I used to.”

“What do you mean, ‘used to?’”

He looks off into the distance, eyes dark and sad, “When I was five my dad tried to teach me to ride a bike without training wheels. I fell and scraped my knee pretty bad and it scared. But after the nogitsune split us, it was gone. I don’t think this is the body I was born in. I think that one cracked and turned to dust.”

Lydia thinks back to the sight of Void choking out a pile of bandages, of a wrapped arm emerging from the floor, and can see Stiles’ logic in this. However, “Think of it like this: you shed him like a snake sheds old skin. What was left was just an empty husk, one you had out grown.”

He looks up at her, eyes filed with awe and hope. He studies her face, searching her out for any trace of insincerity. Finding none, he gives her a small adoring smile. “I like the way you think. You’re really smart.”

She nods in agreement and grabs his wrists, bringing them between them, palm up, “That also means that these are not the hands the nogitsune used to hurt people. These hands are new and innocent.” She sees wetness pooling in his eyes, his hope, adoration and love shining out at her. At that moment Lydia thinks she feels the tether tying him to her wrap around her heart. She thinks if she were to close her eyes she could almost see it, represented as a piece of red yarn connecting them. If she were to pluck it, she’d hear every conversation they’d ever had played back over every story she’d ever heard about love. Evidence piling up against her.

“Does that also mean that I was a virgin that first time we made love?”

Lydia rolls her eyes and laughs at his silly comment. Leave it to him to make such an observation. It wasn’t really the point she was trying to make, but he seems to get it and is dealing with it in his usual way.

 

* * *

 

The next day at lunch they plot out their next move. Stiles wants to go to Derek’s loft and demand answers since he’s not answering his phone. Lydia wants to track down Marin and see if she knows anything. She always seems to know what is going on without any of them telling her first. They are debating the pros and cons of each, working their way to a compromise, when Stiles gets a call from his dad.

“Allison’s headstone is being put up this afternoon,” Stiles says when he ends the call. She sees him text the info to Scott – he’d want to know- before he looks up to her, understanding that they are not going to Derek’s or to find Marin after school, now.

When classes end, the get in her car and drive to the cemetery. Allison is buried in a small plot with a few other members of her family, mainly her aunt and mom. The tombstone is simple and elegant. Before he left, Mr. Argent had special ordered it to bear the family crest and Allison’s motto. Lydia’s eyes dart over the familiar French, thinking of how much it symbolized her friend.

“Hey Allison.” She says, and Stiles grabs her hand, squeezes it, and wanders off, giving her a moment alone. Allison used to give her this smug look when she knew something that Lydia didn’t. As she watches Stiles meander through the tombstones with fondness, and she swears she can feel Allison giving her that look from beyond the grave. “So yea, that’s new.” She says, kneeling before the cold granite and running her fingers fondly over the engraved letters of her name.

“I wanted to say thank you. And I’m sorry. Thank you for coming for me. You were always there for me, for everything. I’m only sorry that I couldn’t have found a way to save you. Sometimes I think I could have warned you better. I only had a small opening when the nogitsune took me and I barely had time to write out the message I left you. But then I think that even if I could have warned you better, even if you knew you were going to die, you would have still come anyway. I’d’ve done the same for you.

I also want you to know that I’m trying to keep an eye on them all for you. Though Scott is being a bit difficult right now. And when Isaac and you’re dad get back I’ll try to look out for them too.

And Stiles is getting better every day. We’re helping each other and being with him is really great. It’s like…I can breathe when I’m with him.” She stops and thinks about it. That sounds right to her. She never knew it was so hard to breathe until she let him in. Which she has, without any conscious thought. He slipped in behind her walls so easily and fluidly, she didn’t even realize he was there.

“Anyway, I love you and I miss you. I’ll keep our friends safe, because that’s what you died to do.” With that she kisses her fingers and presses them into the stone. She gets up and searches the graveyard for Stiles.

“Stiles?” She calls out and heads for the tree line, because that’s the way the tether is pulling her. She doesn’t see him anywhere and as she keeps getting no answer to her calls, she feels a knot of dread coil in her stomach. She feels a tightness in the back of her throat and she clenches her jaw, fearing a scream. It’s not. She recognizes it. It’s the same feeling she had standing on a lacrosse field at night, a man’s silhouette drawing nearer. She recognizes it as danger.

Before she can pin down where the danger is, pain explodes in her head and the world tilts. She distantly feels her body hit the ground and as the world is tunneling into darkness, she swears she sees long blond hair and blue fur.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's that you say? Don't know how to end a scene? Make 'em have sex!" - My philosophy
> 
> If you are enjoying this fic, please leave a comment!


	7. Days When We Raged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this story. I'll probably be doing an epilogue just for fun but that will probably take place in the future. There may also be a series of one-shots and missing scenes from this universe but if I write them they'll be well in the future because I've got some other things I want to work on.
> 
> So with that, I give you the final chapter.

Chapter 7: Days When We Raged

 

Stiles comes awake slowly, then all at once. Cold cement is digging into his hip and shoulder, and he sits up too quickly. Blood rushes around in his head and he feels the throb throughout his entire body. Darkness tunnels his vision and he slumps backward, feeling cement at his back, too. A single bulb hangs overhead, barely illuminating the small seven by seven foot room. The room has no windows, just a door on the wall to the left of the one he is propped against.

To his right, Lydia lays on her side, back facing him. He crawls over, turns her, and cradles her upper body in his arms. She’s still unconscious with a worrying line of blood down the side of her face. Stiles parts her hair, but in the dim light cannot make out the wound. With nothing else to do to assess her condition, he checks her pulse and breathing, finding it steady. Her skin is a little cold, so he pulls off the red hoodie he is wearing over his t-shirt and covers her.

 

* * *

 

With nothing but a single bulb for light, Stiles has no way to judge how long he sits in the dark room or how long he was unconscious for. The last thing he remembers is wandering off to give Lydia some time alone. He didn’t even see who attacked him.

He’s had enough time to feel along the walls and try the door. There are no cracks or gives in the wall and the door doesn’t even have a handle, just a hole where one was ripped out. He can peer out of it but can’t see anything but darkness on the other side. He can slip a couple of fingers out and when he does he can feel what he thinks to be a padlock just above. He can’t see any way out like that.

Stiles can only see a few ways they are leaving this cell. Option 1: Whoever has them drags them out, kills them and leaves their bodies in a ditch somewhere. This is obviously not his favorite option or the most likely. If they are just going to kill them why would they bother to lock them up? Unless they wanted to torture them. Which is basically Option 2 and also ends with his and Lydia’s bodies in a ditch somewhere.

Option 3 features him and Lydia subduing their captors whenever they decide to inevitably come and check on them. This isn’t a bad option, however Stiles doesn’t know how many there are or if they are supernatural or not. It’s still not being ruled out.

Stiles last and brightest hope is that Scott will somehow track them down. It’s a vague and not fully formed option considering all the variables. For example, he’s not sure if they’ve even been gone long enough for Scott to notice they are missing. Add in the weekend and Scott’s recent avoidance and they could be here for a long time yet.

He’s pacing as much as he can while considering these options when he hears footsteps approaching. There is the sound of a key opening the pad lock before the door creaks open. Stiles puts himself between the door and Lydia’s still unconscious form as a feminine figure steps through the door. It takes him a moment to recognize her, after all, they’d never really spoken.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Funnily enough,” Kate Argent says, “That was my reaction exactly.”

“ _How_ are you not dead? Wait. Don’t answer that. Werewolf, right?” Stiles has heard of other ways to become a werewolf. Considering that Kate had her throat slashed by an Alpha but isn’t currently dead, it must mean that 1.) She is a werewolf, 2) the one about turning through a scratch must be true, 3) he should probably watch his mouth.

She raises her eyebrows, begrudgingly impressed, “Something like that.”

“Ok. So what, you want revenge or something? None of us like Peter and he doesn’t like us, so killing us won’t bother him.”

“Oh, sweetie, no. I’ll get to Peter, just like I got to Derek, and like I’m going to get to Scott.”

Stiles feels all the pieces fall into place, the biggest one given when she walked through the door and the final one when she mentions Derek. It all makes sense; Scott and Kira’s behavior, Derek not answering his calls, hell, he could even imagine Deaton being out of town as a part of this. He’s so angry at Scott for keeping this all from him.

“So we’re bait? What, did you send Scott some lame note made out of newspaper clippings?”

She looks pissed and annoyed. “What can I say? I hate waiting. And Scott, adorable as he is, never struck me as overly bright. Here,” She tosses a bottle of water at him, “keep hydrated.” before turning and walking out.

“If Allison were here, she’d be so ashamed of you.” He can’t help but say.

She moves fast and he feels the breath leave him as his back hits the wall before he even knows she does. He’s struggling to catch his lost breath, feet tangled with Lydia’s as Kate pushes him into the cement. Her eyes shine blue and long teeth nip too close to his face for comfort. “Don’t say a word to me about my Niece.” She spits the words out and shoves him into the wall again for good measure, then walks out.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is still sitting slumped against the wall he was thrown into, Lydia’s legs resting over his own, when she starts to stir.

“Hey. Lydia,” he leans over her, hands holding him up on either side of her, “You alright? Say something.”

“Stiles?” She sounds groggy but okay. Stiles breaths out, relieved, and helps her move her hair away from her face. “Where are we? What happened?”

He sits back against the wall, pulling Lydia up to prop against him. “Kate’s alive. She took us and sent Scott a ransom letter. I think she’s a werewolf–a were-something at least, now. I don’t know where we are. How do you feel?”

“Nauseous. I think I have a concussion.” He’d already used the water and the sleeve of his hoodie to wash away the blood from her face and head, but he spends the next few seconds prodding her skull, looking for any other bumps.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, when he finds none and Lydia concludes that she’s definitely concussed.

“Just-I don’t want to go back to sleep.” She says and leans into his side. “Talk to me. You must’ve already figured this all out. What does she want?”

“Well, something’s obviously happened to Derek, from what she said. My guess is that Scott found out and that’s what he’s been keeping from us. He’s probably been looking for him or whoever got him –who we now know is Kate - all week. He’s probably even got Deaton hunting down leads.  It would explain why he’s been gone since Monday. I don’t know if Scott knows yet that Kate’s alive or even if Derek is dead, missing, or just hurt. As for what Kate wants, she apparently wants all the Hale’s and Scott dead. I don’t really know why, but she’s a psychopath so I don’t feel too bad about not understanding her motives.”

Neither of them say anything about the fact that Scott is walking into a trap.

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, eventually the sounds of fighting reach Stiles and Lydia.

“SCOTT! Scott! We’re in here.” Stiles stands and yells, hands pressing up against the door. They wait for what feels like days but is probably only moments, the sounds of smacks, grunts, and gun shots fueling their imagination. Footsteps pound down the hallway, growing louder. Stiles steps back, pulling Lydia close behind him. The padlock is ripped from the door with a loud scream, the door flying open with a bang.

Scott’s red eyes find them, “Are you guys okay.”

They both nod, and Stiles says, “Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Scott leads them down the hall and up a staircase. They emerge into a large abandoned warehouse, and Stiles thinks that they must have been held in an old supply closet. It would have explained the vague smell of chemicals.

Stiles expects to be attacked at any moment. When they are not, he asks, “Where’s Kate?”

“Got away.” Stiles answers, sounding frustrated. “Kira’s seeing if she can track her. She’s gonna meet us at the car.”

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, Kira is waiting for them by Scott’s Mom’s car, having found no sign of Kate. They decide to go to the Hospital instead of seeking out Deaton like they usually do. Stiles doesn’t want to jeopardize Lydia’s brain.

When they get there Stiles declines treatment. He just has a small bump and a few bruises, nothing major. It was already going to be tricky explaining Lydia’s injuries away.

Stiles is sitting with Scott in the empty waiting room when he asks, “So did you find out anything about Derek?”

Scott gives Stiles a surprised look, but Stiles just answers by raising his eyebrows, saying without words, _‘did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out?’_ Scott sighs and slumps in his chair.

“No. I just know that he’s not dead and he wasn’t in that warehouse. I couldn’t get anything out of Kate before she ran off.”

Stiles nods, fingers drumming on the arm rests of his chair and knee bouncing up and down. It’s as if he can’t contain himself. Everything he’s been feeling toward Scott and his actions the past week is difficult to contain – the anger, hurt, betrayal, abandonment. He honestly doesn’t know where to even to start.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.” Stiles thinks that it’s a good thing Scott’s decided not to lie anymore.

“Sorry getting kidnapped and my girlfriend concussed ruined that for you.”

“I’m sorry.” Scott says softly, well versed in Stiles use of sarcasm to mask vulnerability.

“Why?” Stiles anxiously runs a hand along his jaw and turns to Scott, “Why leave us out? We could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want you getting hurt. There’s been too much of that.”

“Well in case you didn’t notice, Scott. We did get hurt.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Did you ever think that by not telling us that we’d be in danger too?” Stiles sees Scott slump further into his chair, “I mean, if we would have known that something was going on, we probably would have been more alert.” Stiles knows that if he knew someone was out there kidnapping their friends, he never would have left Lydia alone.

“I didn’t want you getting mixed up in this. You’d just started recovering from Void and things were going so well with Lydia, and Stiles, people _died_. _Allison_ died. I just, didn’t want to lose you, too.”

“Yeah, well think about how I’d feel if you went out and got yourself killed, or hurt, on your own. That’d hurt ten times as much. Especially if I could have helped. And even if I did get hurt or killed, I would want to go out protecting my friends, like Allison did. Like Aiden did.”

He pauses and Scott has nothing to say. Stiles hopes he realizes how hypocritical he has been. “Scott, I wish that no one had to die, or get hurt, or possessed, but I’m not going to leave your side just because it might happen. You’re my brother. And we’re in this together.”

“Yeah, but Stiles. The things that come after us. You’ve said it before. You can’t do the things I can do. And the bad just keeps on getting bigger and stronger.”

“So maybe I don’t fight on the front lines. I don’t have to be in there throwing punches to help.”

“Alright. Ok. I see your point.”

“Good.”

“You know, it was so hard not to tell you, this whole time,” Scott admits and Stiles looks at him knowingly. “Can you forgive me?”

“Yeah, man, we’re cool,” Because Stiles can forgive Scott anything. “Just don’t do it again, alright?”

Scott agrees and they spend the next couple of hours going over everything Scott found out about Derek’s disappearance.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Lydia only half listens as the doctors list off the conditions of her release. She’s well aware of the aftercare for a concussion and is getting a bit annoyed at the doctor talking to her like she’s an idiot. Stiles is leaning against the doorframe, waiting to take her home. By the downward turn of his mouth she can see that he’s picking up on her annoyance as well.

After what feels like forever, her release is finalized and she is crawling into Stiles’ Jeep. He takes her home, saying that since her Mom is out of town, she shouldn’t be alone.

Stiles insists that she put on something comfortable and that they spend the day watching movies. She does and Stiles pops in the copy of the Notebook he got her for her last birthday. Despite it being her favorite movie, she doesn’t pay much attention to it. Her attention is drawn toward Stiles.

He intensely watches the screen, forehead scrunched up, like he finds the movie utterly ridiculous but is holding in his criticism for her. He’d do so much for her, she knows. He’d probably even read to her when she was old. She’s suddenly struck by the idea that she’d do the same for him. There’s so much she’d do for him.

‘ _Because you love him.’_ She hears Allison’s voice in her head, and Lydia is breathless with the truth of it.

Stiles started off as this semi-annoying boy who she only got to know through Allison. She was at first annoyed at his ability to so easily admit his feelings for her, but want nothing in return. His honesty rubbed her the wrong way, got under her skin, and exasperated her all at the same time. Boys who liked her always wanted something from her. She wasn’t used to someone handing over their feelings so easily and letting her do with them what she wanted. She’s thankful she never was purposely cruel about it.

Eventually they became closer and while she was sure his feelings were still there, he stopped proclaiming them so loudly, but she still read it in every look and glance shot her way. She got used to being in his heart. And she found he was in hers.

She trusted him. Respected him, even, as one of the few people who could keep up with her intellectually and even figure some things out that she couldn’t. She admired how he could see pieces and patterns that were not obvious to most people, how brave he was in the face of the supernatural.

Then the nogitsune came along and turned Stiles into something so unlike the boy she knew, and she just wanted it all back, all of the Stiles she knew. Sarcasm, ADHD, and flailing and all.

The movie was ending and Stiles seemed to relax into himself, as if it had been painful for him to resist rolling his eyes the entire movie. She is leaning against him, his arm around her shoulder and her hands resting on his chest.  Slowly, she climbs into his lap, thighs resting on either side of his hips.

“Whoa, hey, Lydia.” He says as she dives in and kisses a line up his neck, “Um, you’re supposed to be resting, and this isn’t very restful.”

Despite his protests she can feel him growing beneath her. She _loves_ how he doesn’t ever try to hide his eagerness from her. Yes, ‘loves.’ The word feels so true and right she grinds down on him and he whimpers. She peppers his face with small kisses, his moles are the perfect targets, and whispers in his ear, “Then I guess you’re going to have to do all the work.”

Their lips meet and Stiles turns them until her back is on the couch. He makes quick work of her sweats and his jeans. Stiles’ fingers quickly make their way to her opening, filling her with one then two digits. Her pumps into her, fingers curled the way she likes and thumb rubbing circles on her clit. She is moaning and his lips are teasing her own with gentle presses and captures that leave her wanting more. She pushes away his hand and guides his cock to her entrance.

Stiles pushes in and her legs fall open as much as the couch will allow. She wants him in as far as he’ll go and Stiles seems to agree. Her body rocks with his deep, slow thrusts, hands making way under t-shirts.

It’s perfect like this. Both of them naked from the waist down on her couch. Slow and hard and deep all at the same time. It doesn’t take long for her to clench around him and he follows, unable to resist the decadent flutter of her walls.

“I love you.” She tells him while he is still resting inside her, lips still wandering along her jaw and thumbs drawing lazy circles on her sides.

He freezes, head shooting up and eyes meeting hers with the most heartbreakingly hopeful look she’s ever seen. “You do?”

“Yes.” She says, cupping his face and trying to covey as much love and honesty as she ever has in the next two words, “I do.”

Stiles stares at her, eyes searching her. Like the sun rising, slowly and beautifully, he smiles, full of joy and wonder and love. It reaches his eyes and his whole being seems to radiate with it. “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Once his dad check up on him, Stiles goes back to ripping down the evidence wall, not all of it making it to the trash can. He feels good about this decision, the wall a physical representation of the chaos that was once in his head. Getting rid of it is probably one of the first true steps he’s taken on his own down the road to recovery. He knows he’s still got some things to work out, but he feels proud that he’s doing this for himself.

He’s deeply concentrating on filling the holes left in the walls when Lydia walks into his room.

“Doing some interior decorating?” She asks, taking in the bare walls dotted with white patches of drying spackling, the red yarn tangled and flung on his bed, and the old papers overflowing his small garbage can.

“Something like that.” He says, and, after putting down the tub of white paste, winds his arms around her and kisses her.

“Well if you need any tips, I’m really good at it.” She says, teasingly. Stiles smiles and presses their foreheads together.

“Thanks, but I think all I need to do is repaint.”

“Alright then. Let’s go.” And she grabs his hands and begins to lead him out of his room.

“Lydia. Where are we going?”

“To Home Depot, of course. If you’re going to repaint you’re going to need some color swatches.” Stiles smiles at her. He was just going to use the leftover paint in the basement, but he doesn’t think telling Lydia that will go over well since she seems to have her heart set on it.

“Ok. But no pinks or weird purples.” He says and allows himself to be led out of the room as he and Lydia argue about the merits of neutral colors. He’ll let her pick out what she wants, because he knows she won’t pick out something he’ll hate. She knows him and loves him, a fact he has accepted but still hasn’t gotten over. Every time she says it he loses his breath.

He shoots one more look at his room in taters, but instead of a mess, he sees his own soul in repair. With Lydia’s hand is his and Scott and the pack at his side, he knows he can face it, knows it’s enough to get through.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. I'm pretty nervous about this chapter. Ending stories is hard. I hope I wrapped everything up that I could. I know its not the best story out there but I am proud that I participated and finished what I set out to do, and that was posting something for every day of Stydia Week. I also feel a bit more confident in my writing. Its been a while and when I started I had a really hard time getting the words on the page. So I'm glad for the practice and hope to continue in the future. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read and is now following me on Tumblr. Also a special thanks go out to banshee_in_the_dark and Adihsar who have left so many wonderful reviews. You probably won't ever know how much that kept me writing. Thank you also to everyone who left kudos and bookmarked this story. 
> 
> One day I may go back and tweak this a little, so please, if you have an constructive criticism or favorable feedback, I'd love to hear it. 
> 
> <3 -B

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome all creative criticism. Feel free to follow me on tumblr: http://lilmissb46.tumblr.com/


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